The Dress
by ellainferno
Summary: Hermione's Friday Formal dress was her dream come true. Little did she know, it would be the start of too many problems.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. **Hey everyone! Ella here. I'm so excited to be back with my original love, fanfiction! It's been an eternity since I've written one. I hope that this is acceptable! =]

Mandatory Disclaimer: As one might assume, my name is _not_ Jo Rowling, and I did _not_ get the opportunity to write an amazing story like Harry Potter. If you recognize anything, it's not mine. xD

**Chapter 1**

The dress lay on her bed, as it had for the past seven hours or so. It seemed so innocent, nearly blending into the pale cream-and-white comforter that had been chosen by some school official or another. With it's simple, square neck, a waistline that had been tailored to perfection, the incredible, subtle, hand-stiched embroidery, and the gently flaring skirt, the dress was a stunning piece of craftsmanship. It was truly beautiful, if you happened to glance it from across the room, not knowing it's history. It had that treasured, but rare, quality of something that made any wearer undeniably gorgeous. It was something special, there was no doubt about that. But there was one particular witch who did not find this dress nearly enchanting as all the rest.

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It had all started out as a beautiful spring Friday, the kind that makes students focus even less on their studies than they already had before. However, as was noticed and unappreciated by the professors, something held their students' collective attention even more-so than great weather tended to. That something was Gryffindor House's annual Friday Formal. One could call it a school tradition, but it was not the type of school tradition that sat well with the faculty. The Friday Formal was, presumably, on a Friday, and it was always held in the Spring. It was planned by the Prefects of Gryffindor House. The other houses had tried to replicate this special party, but none had ever made it past the two-year mark. The dormitories were magically sealed off, so everyone in attendance had to stay in the common room, which was always lavishly decorated to fit some theme decided on by the Prefects. Among other requirements for the party, one unofficial one was most always the highlight of the evening: alcohol. Somehow, a few of the Slytherins always managed to procure some alcohol, and for that very reason, no one below fifth year was permitted to attend.

While the House rivalries were still present, the Friday Formal was one of those rare times where they seemed to fade slightly into the background. While there were still most of the expected spats between the particularly feisty Gryffindors and Slytherins, most hatred was stowed aside for another day. Of course, once the alcohol got in to everyone's systems, things got a little out of hand. And it was nearly impossible to avoid the plague of booze. Let's just say that if you wanted to stay sober, you only had five minutes from the start of the party until you had to start drinking your own drink.

This year, the Seventh Years had gotten together prior to the Prefect's meeting and decided that they wanted to go all out on this one, seeing as it was their final year. The theme they decided on was Victorian. The general decor of the room already lent itself to that theme without much hexing, and of course most of the furniture would be removed anyway. They chose that particular theme because it was classy, not one of those disgustingly Muggle themes such as Night-Under-The-Sea, or some such crap.

Hermione Granger, the top witch in their year, had been the one to put forth this idea. She had always harbored a secret fascination with the Victorian era. It was so romantic that she couldn't help but be intrigued. She just couldn't let anyone else see that romantic side of her, as it would completely blow her bookworm reputation. Everyone had always assumed that Hermione was the type of girl to not be kissed until she was out of school and not marry because of work. Frankly, this offended her. And while there was certainly some things that had gone on between the seventeen year old Quidditch star, Viktor Krum, during her Fourth Year that others did not need to and did not seem to know about, he was the only one that she had ever had romantic ties to. If she was to be perfectly honest with herself, that bothered her. A lot. A lot more than anyone else in the school would have guessed, anyway.

So Hermione chose this theme, hoping that maybe some of the romance of the evening would soak into her life. The booze wouldn't hurt, either.

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Hermione walked across the grounds on the very same beautiful Friday. She smiled idly to herself, humming a soft tune. She was on her way to her NEWT level Herbology class, which she had persuaded Harry and Ron to take with her at the beginning of 6th year. If anyone had asked her what she was smiling, she would have told them that she had just checked a new book out of the library. The truth was that she was thinking about her dress for the evening. It was truly a magical dress. It was white satin with beautiful, subtle cream embroidery all over the rich fabric. It had tank top straps and a square neck. It made everyone, even Hermione look radiant. And it was all hers. She had happened upon it in a Wizarding thrift store that had just recently opened up in Hogsmede. She still had a hard time believing that the dress was real, it seemed too good to be true.

She hadn't quite decided how to fix her hair yet. She already knew that she was going to go the natural-looking route with her makeup, with some foundation, nude lip gloss, minimal silver eyeshadow, and a touch of dark grey eyeliner. She was trying to decide between two hairstyles: a bun, like the one she had sported at the Yule Ball three years prior; or, she could hex her hair to make it shiny and curl softly below her shoulders. She figured she should ask Ginny for her opinion. Ginny was definitely more fashion-concious than Hermione, and she was always pleased when Hermione asked her for beauty counseling.

Still caught up in her fantasizing about that night, Hermione was startled when she arrived at the Greenhouses. Shaking her head a bit in a weak attempt to clear it, she glanced down at her watch. She had less than a minute to spare. Sighing, she reached for the door handle and wrenched the heavy glass door open. She took her usual seat in between Harry and Ron, and smiled at each of them. Ron quickly averted his eyes from hers, catching Hermione slightly off guard. She blinked a few times and her brow furrowed as slowly sank into her seat. As soon as her butt hit the hard wood, Professor Sprout started her lecture, as if that had been some sort of secret signal.

Hermione struggled to keep her focus. She knew it was practically pointless, and she was without a doubt the only person in her classroom who was even making an effort to pay attention, but the "Hermione" side of her couldn't bear to let a class go by without her paying attention. While her quill flew over the paper, she cast a sidelong glance at Ron. He had turned his head so that there was no chance of catching her eye. This puzzled the brightest witch in the school.

Why on earth would Ron be mad at her? Had she said anything to offend him? Certainly not. In fact, they'd recently only talked in the meetings for the Friday Formal, as far as she could remember. He had almost seemed like he was avoiding her. Still thinking this over, she snuck a glance at Harry, who was sitting on her right. His chin was resting in his hand and he had a dreamy look on his face. He wasn't even bothering to take notes. Hermione nudged his arm out from his chin. He started, and gave Hermione a dirty look. She just smiled innocently and gave him a little sarcastic wave. He rolled his eyes, but chuckled to himself as he went back to his former position, taking care to use his right arm this time, so there was no chance of Hermione interrupting his daydream again.

Hermione exhaled sharply through her nose. She turned to face Professor Sprout, who was still powering through her demonstration but had a small frown etched on her face. She had noticed that no one was paying attention, but had decided to let them be. _You only get to be young once,_ the professor thought wryly to herself, and gave a dry internal chuckle. Meanwhile, Hermione's thoughts had returned to her wonderful dress.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hooray, an update! This ones a bit longer. I wasn't quite sure where to end it, but I hope that this is suitable. Expect an update within the week!

A special thank you to my reviewers, hXc Pandah and katelincullen. Thanks, you two! I would love more reviews, however! -hint hint-

I do not own Harry Potter.

**Chapter 2  
**

Hermione, having made it through the rest of her classes, was up in her dormitory with Ginny Weasley. The two girls were getting ready for the Friday Formal. After a long discussion about hairstyles, they had decided that Hermione should wear her hair down and hex it to curl softly. Ginny had done her hair in an elegant updo at the nape of her neck, and her makeup was a little more pronounced than Hermione's. She had gone for the smokey eye look, but she used the same nude lipgloss as Hermione.

The girls were ready, save for getting dressed. Hermione was rather surprised that Ginny had agreed to get ready with her. She had thought that Ginny would rather have gotten ready in her own dormitory with her own friends, but the sixth year had brought all of her necessary equipment up to Hermione's room without Hermione even having to ask. Ginny slipped into her dress, an elegant, floor-length forest green dress. It had a plunging neckline that only Ginny could pull off and not look trashy, Hermione thought to herself. Hermione stepped into her own dress. She then clasped a dainty pearl necklace around her neck. Her grandmother had given her that necklace when she was born. Her mother had only just revealed its existence to Hermione the year prior. She put the matching pearl studs in her ears and then slipped her shoes on. They were satin heels with a rounded toe, and she had hexed them to match the embroidery on her dress.

She stepped back and took a look in the floor-length mirror on the back of the door to her dormitory. Hermione Granger gasped at the sight of her appearance.

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After Ginny had decided that she was as ready as she could be, both girls made their way downstairs, which proved to be harder for Hermione than she had expected, seeing as she was wearing heels. Ginny on the other hand made it seem like she had been wearing heels since she was born. When Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs, she found a nearly-empty Common Room, occupied only by Harry, Ron, and the stray underclassmen who had not made it up to their dormitory yet. Ginny had made it to the bottom first, as she was uninhibited by her heels. Ron had already started yelling at her for her choice of apparel, but Ginny was merely rolling her eyes at him. She had endured so much of his overprotecting that she had very nearly learned to ignore it.

"You might have thought to wear some bloody clothes!" Ron was yelling, his ears rapidly turning the color of his hair.

"Oh, bugger off, Ron," Ginny said in a bored voice. "What I choose to wear to a school event is no business of yours." Ron couldn't think of an adequate response, so he settled with sputtering indignantly at her.

Hermione looked around at the other seventh year in the room. He had remained quiet through the fight, but, as Hermione noted, his attention was trained on the very part of Ginny that the fight was about. He looked up as Hermione glanced at him, as if he could tell he was being watched. His shoulders rose as he realized he had been caught ogling, and he shot her a sheepish grin. Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling slightly.

"Ron, leave her alone," Harry finally added. "Weren't you going to go check and make sure we had all the punch?"

"Oh. Yeah," Ron grunted, and then walked over to the buffet table, still muttering under his breath. Hermione distinctly heard him say "bloody whore... if mum had seen... gone blind... what the hell was she thinking?" as he passed.

"Thanks for that," Ginny said to Harry, crossing her arms delicately over her chest. "He's just... I mean, I suppose it's nice that he cares enough to be a prat about it," she said, shaking her head as if she didn't believe herself, "but... he needs to wake up and realize I'm not eleven. Honestly, he's worse than Dad." The three remaining laughed nervously.

After a little more awkward small talk, punctuated by Harry glancing at the more revealing parts of Ginny's dress in what he thought was a sneaky manner, it was finally time to open the doors and allow students from the three houses to enter. Hermione double checked the wards on the corridors leading to the dormitories. They were still safely in place. All of the fifth, sixth, and seventh year Gryffindors had eventually ambled down to the Common Room.

When the portrait opened, it revealed a mass of students in multi-colored dress robes and regular dresses, all peering interestedly in through the opening. Then suddenly there was a rush to enter the room, which had been hexed to make it appear bigger.

After the first surge of people, the students milled about in the room. A few last minute stragglers made their way in, but for the most part, everyone who was planning on coming had arrived. About ten minutes in, Hermione saw, out of the corner of her eye, a sixth year Slytherin casually tipping something into the punch bowl.

Eventually, the Weird Sisters brought out their band equipment and were immediately swarmed by excited students. The Gryffindors had somehow managed to book the Weird Sisters, a feat that had not been accomplished since '78, back when the band wasn't as popular. Hermione had never really gotten into the Weird Sisters craze with her fellow classmates; the fact that their genders were indeterminable was slightly creepy to her. She had always wondered if the Weird Sisters were the only Wizard musicians, as they were nearly the only ones ever mentioned in conversation.

If they were to be perfectly honest with themselves, the only reason the seventh year Gryffindors had been able to book live entertainment was because of the "Chosen One". They had originally claimed to be booked solid until next year, but once Harry took a shot at persuading them, their manager had immediately "found an opening" that he "hadn't noticed before".

As Hermione was considering the Magical music industry, Ginny came over to her, her face flushed and her eyes flashing. She motioned for Hermione to lean in closer. "Don't tell Ron this, but..." she began, shooting a quick glance around them to make sure that her brother was nowhere near them, "Draco Malfoy has been making eyes at me across the room." Hermione looked around, and, sure enough, Draco Malfoy was staring right at the younger redhead at Hermione's side, with a characteristic, if not slightly disturbing, smirk on his face. Ginny had looked up too, but she immediately turned her back on him and put her face in her hands.

"But, Ginny," Hermione said, taking another look around the room, "half the boys in this room are making eyes at you." This was very true, and it was a fact that Ron had seemed to notice as well. He came hurrying up to the girls, looking furious.

"Ginny!" he said loudly, causing the assorted people around them to look up in shock. "I TOLD you that that dress was a bad idea!" He had lowered his voice slightly, but he was still practically shouting. Those in the surrounding area laughed and started talking amongst themselves once more.

"Oh, shut up, Ron," Ginny said, glowering at him. She stalked off with her arms crossed over her chest.

Now it was Hermione's turn to glare at Ron. "Really, Ron, you could have handled that with a bit more tact," she said scathingly. He started going red around the ears and shuffled his feet a bit.

"Yeah. Well," he said awkwardly, which made Hermione bite back her retort. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Ron..." Hermione began, about to ask him what was going on, but he had already walked away. Almost immediately, Harry appeared in his place.

"I'm not Ron," he said, grinning. He was holding two plastic cups full of punch.

Hermione turned towards him. "Do you have any idea why Ron is acting like a... prat?" she asked him, wincing ever so slightly at her use of the word. Over the course of the year, the boys and Ginny had taken it upon themselves to make Hermione incorporate more slang words into her daily vocabulary. It had worked, for the most part, but Hermione still had to consciously make herself use her new slang words.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. But this is a party, Hermione. You're too uptight. Here, take this," he said, forcing the plastic cup into her hands. She took it and brought it up to her mouth, inhaling subtly through her nose. There was definitely some sort of alcoholic substance mixed in. She took a big swig. "There," Harry said, content. "A few more drinks and you won't be worried about Ron." She was about to protest, but suddenly the prospect seemed very appealing.

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An hour into the party, Hermione had lost count of how many drinks she had had. Of course, that was probably thanks to her intoxicated state, but it was still the most drinking she had ever done in one period of time. She usually stayed away from alcohol because she could not hold it very well. The last thing she needed was to end up shagging some boy she hardly knew because she couldn't make proper choices.

Most of the students were either dancing or mingling along the walls. Harry had stuck dutifully by her side for essentially the whole time, eagerly going off to refill their cups whenever they ran dry. Ron was nowhere to be found, and Ginny was off in the corner with her giggling girlfriends, no doubt discussing the males in the room.

The room spun a bit and she grabbed on to Harry's arm a little tighter than necessary. She laughed loudly at something he had just said, something distinctly unfunny such as "The ceiling is red." He laughed too and took her cup, stumbling a bit as he went to refill it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Here it is! The moment you've all been waiting for! Sorry, it took my longer than I thought it would to update. But! This one is longer, so that is my retribution. I've been feeling majorly musey lately, so hopefully I can get an update up soon.

Just a heads up, though. I'm starting school soon, as are most people, so I probably won't have too much spare time to keep writing. I'll see what I can manage, though! I'm sure I'll be able to finish the story!

A great big **thank you **to all of my wonderful reviewers! I love you so!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own HP, yadda yadda.

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**Chapter 3**

There was something really bright shining on her face. Hermione squeezed her eyes tightly but the bright light still managed to get under her eyelids. Sighing, she opened her eyes. There was a ray of sunlight coming in from the window, and it was aimed straight at her face. Squinting, she groaned. Her head was pounding. _Wait a second,_ she thought. Why was there a window? Where the hell was she? The last thing she remembered was laughing with Harry at the Friday Formal. And why was she so cold? She realized that she was only covered by a sheet. There was no blanket on the bed, which was odd. Even though it was spring, the mornings and nights were still pretty cold. All of the students still had blankets on their beds. About two seconds after she made this acute observation, Hermione realized that she was definitely completely naked. Suddenly, she was completely awake.

She raked her eyes across the room, taking inventory. There were four other beds in the room, all mercifully empty. Heaven only knew where their usual occupants were. That was the first tip-off that this room was not her dorm. Her room had fewer beds than this one. The walls were red, though, so that was a good sign. She was still in Gryffindor. One of the beds had numerous muggle posters above it, all depicting some sports team or another.

After completing her mental inventory and still having no clue where she was, Hermione's eyes fell on the sleeping figure next to her. He was facing away from her, but she could recognize that messy black hair from a mile away. "No," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. This was not happening. There was no way... There must be something wrong with her. She had to be imagining things. She covered her eyes with her hand and inhaled sharply through her nose. This had to be a mistake.

Just then, the sleeping figure flipped over so she could see his face. At this point, there was no denying the fact that it was Harry. His hair was pushed off of his forehead, and his scar seemed to mock her from his forehead. To her horror, Hermione registered that she was getting teary. _This is _not_ the time to be getting weepy_, she firmly told herself, but her tear ducts didn't seem to be taking orders from her brain at the moment. She angrily wiped away her tears. _There has to be some sort of logical explanation for this_, she reasoned, her practical, Hermione-ish side kicking in.

She sat up, holding the sheet against her chest. That proved to be a bad idea, as her stomach immediately stated churning menacingly. She sprinted for the bathroom, which luckily proved to be in the same spot as the one in her dorm. After she had emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet, she remembered that she was wearing literally no clothing. Hoping that the room was still void of conscious humans, she hurried back to the safety of the sheet.

Her dress. Her beautiful, unbelievably perfect dress. The dress that she had spent hours obsessing over, the dress that she had hardly believed to have existed. It was lying on a heap on the floor. For some reason or another, Hermione found herself crying for the second time in a brief period of time. Why was she so emotional? _It's because you just realized you slept with you best friend, _she told herself. As if reading her mind, Harry stirred. His eyes blinked open, and then squeezed shut as hers had. He groaned and put a hand to his forehead. Hermione, not having made it to the bed, was frozen in place in the middle of the room, waiting to see what happened next. A few moments later, after his eyes had adjusted to the glaring sunlight, he looked up, saw Hermione, and started coughing violently.

"Oh my God!" Hermione shrieked, and snatched her dress off the floor. She held it up and made sure that it covered everything it needed to.

After Harry had recovered from his coughing fit, he managed to say, "May I ask why you're standing naked," he choked slightly on the last word, "in the middle of my dorm room?" Hermione, still a little shellshocked, took a while to respond. "You probably know better than I do," she said in a small voice.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, angrily searching for his glasses. She glared at him.

"It means that I have no bloody idea, Harry!" At that, she scooped her remaining clothes off of the ground and stormed into the bathroom, forgetting that the dress didn't cover her back. Harry quickly averted his eyes. He sighed, ruffled his hair, and then reached over to pull some clean boxers out of his trunk that he slid on. He also grabbed an old shirt of his that he hardly ever wore. He knocked lightly on the bathroom door.

"Hermione? Here, take my shirt. I don't want you getting that dress even more fucked up." There was a pause, then the door opened slightly. Hermione stuck her hand out for the shirt. "Put that on, and then we can talk, okay?" Harry said in a weary voice the the crack. She didn't respond, but in a few minutes, Hermione emerged from the bathroom, wearing his shirt and a nasty expression.

"What?" she asked venomously, crossing her arms over her chest. Harry sighed again and then looked away. After a long pause, he took a deep breath.

"Hermione, you can't go blaming me for... whatever happened." He glanced over at Hermione, whose gaze was determinedly fixed on a chair in the corner of the room. "Do you remember anything from last night?" he asked, plopping back down on the bed.

Hermione exhaled sharply through her nose. "The only thing I remember, Harry, is that you kept filling up my glass. Obviously my judgement was impaired." Harry muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "No shit," but Hermione ignored him. "All I'm saying is that you seemed pretty intent on getting my hammered."

"Well, what the hell are you implying?" Harry snapped, firing up at once. She thought about it for a moment, then sighed. "I don't know," she said weakly. "I'm just a little... overwhelmed at the moment." Another pause. She sat down on the opposite side of his bed. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't blame you. I'm just as responsible. I just think we need to figure out exactly what happened, and then go down to breakfast." He studied her face for a moment. "Okay," he agreed, nodding. "So. Last night." He ran his fingers through his hair again. "Last night," Hermione echoed. They sat in awkward silence for almost a minute. "Basically," she said at last, "what I remember is coming downstairs, Ron yelling at Ginny for her dress, then they both disappeared. You gave me alcohol," she shot Harry a look, at which he threw his hands up in self defense, "and I just kept drinking." Her brow furrowed in deep concentration. "Oh, and we were laughing a lot. About really inane, irrelevant stuff." Just the memory of the previous night was making her head throb.

Harry nodded slowly. "That about sums up what I can recall," he said in a defeated tone. "Wait!" Hermione cried, standing up suddenly. "I just remembered... oh God." Her face paled. "What? What?" Harry said, looking up with alarm. "I just remembered how everyone decided that they were going to go have a sleepover or something in the Room of Requirement, but we stayed back. And then you... and then you lead me up here and--" She broke off with a worried look on her face. "And we shagged," Harry finished softly. "Basically," Hermione said in a stifled voice. She turned her face away from him. There was no way she would let Harry see that she was crying again. What was _wrong_ with her?

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After that incredibly awkward exchange, they had established that they would try to keep the entire incident as hushed as possible. However, they had accepted that people would most likely speculate about what had happened. They knew that the fact that two intoxicated teenagers had gone gigglingly up to the same room and not emerged until the next morning had not gone unnoticed. It was to be assumed that the infamous Hogwarts rumor mill would start churning its gears in due course. They had agreed that they would both change, but they would go down to breakfast separately, so they could attract the least amount of attention possible.

Fifteen minutes later, they were both seated across from each other in the Great Hall, determinedly avoiding the other's gaze and being regaled by tales from the night previous. They had apparently missed out on "one hell of a night," Dean Thomas had said, shaking his head in awe. Out of nowhere, Hermione felt arms snaking around her neck. She freaked for about three seconds before realizing they belonged to a certain redhead. "Um, Ron?" she said, bemused. "I'm Hermione."

"I know that!" Ron said, sounding slightly muffled. He evidently had his face pressed against her hair. He laughed and then leaned closer to her, so that his lips barely brushed her ear. "I can't wait for our date tonight." A look of revulsion passed across Hermione's face, but only for an instant. Harry was the only one who noticed. "Wh-what?" she sputtered. Ron released her neck and then sat down next to her. He looked crestfallen. "You don't remember?"

Hermione shot Harry a worried look. "Oh! Of course I remember!" she lied, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, hoping that Harry would notice. "It's just that... when, exactly, did I agree to this?" She tilted her head slightly and waited for an answer. Ron looked even sadder. "Just last night. I can't believe she doesn't remember," he muttered to himself, turning away. "Oh! Well, Ron," Hermione said, everything clicking in her mind, "you see... last night... I don't really remember last night very well," she muttered to him, trying to make it subtle. Lavender, who had obviously been listening in, said loudly, "Oh my God, Hermione! I saw you last night! You go girl!" Hermione blushed scarlet. "Anyway," she pressed on, trying to stay on topic, "When and where are we going?" Ron took a deep breath, then a grin broke out on his face. "Six o'clock in the Common Room," he said, evidently cheered up. Hermione tried to smile back. "Great," she said weakly.

The rest of breakfast passed without any more startling news. Hermione was relieved to hear that she had not gotten married or anything so extreme while she had been under the influence. "Er, Harry?" she said, as he was about to leave the table. "Could I have a word? Defense Against the Dark Arts homework," she offered as explanation to the confused looks she was receiving. She lead him into the Entrance Hall. "What are we going to do?" she hissed at him, starting to freak out. They had planned on coming clean to Ron, but after his Big Announcement, she knew that telling him would kill him. "We can't tell him now!"

Harry groaned. He hated the prospect of keeping something so major from Ron. "Are you sure we couldn't--" Hermione's eyes flashed. "Harry! Really, how can you be so thick! Do you want to break his heart?" She sighed. "I don't like him that way, Harry. You have to help me get out of this somehow." He groaned. "I'll see what I can do." Hermione smiled at him.


End file.
